An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [69]
Margaret comes back to the room with a jug of eggnog plus three plates of cake and fudge. She tops up our mugs.
“All ready for Christmas, are you, Margaret?” the Chief says.
“Thank God, the stores are open till midnight,” she replies.
“Doesn’t matter as long as you bought my gift.” He laughs. Margaret laughs. Francis looks at his watch. Margaret leaves.
“Close the door behind you, will you?” the Chief says. “Francis...you were saying.”
“We’ll need to make some changes to ensure the policy is implemented the way it should be. One of those changes involves database access and who gets to see what and why. That brings me to the point of your project. What is it called again? Bibliophishing?”
I don’t bother to correct him. He knows the difference.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” the Chief says. “I’ll have Margaret top up that jug of eggnog before she heads off to the party. Eat your cake, Brunet.” He walks around the side of his desk. Francis moves his chair again. I study the back of his head, wondering how he manages to shave it so smoothly. I catch a whiff of men’s cologne as he turns his head back towards me. The smell triggers a wave of nausea.
The Chief reappears. He refills our glasses then sits down with a thud. “Margaret says the party’s started. They’re setting up the mikes to play a few tunes,” he says. “How about we move things along, Francis?”
Francis checks his watch again then turns to face me. “In a nutshell, you won’t be working on your project anymore. Instead, you’ll be responsible for devising systems that promote efficiency of information management within the library. Those systems will safeguard the privacy of patrons, staff and management. They’ll be progressively refined to the point where they can be scaled to other units of the university such as Human Resources.” He looks over at the Chief. The Chief raises his mug again. I raise mine to my lips and gulp down what’s left.
“I’ll be the sole person in charge,” Francis adds. “We don’t want too many cooks spoiling the broth, poking their noses in where they shouldn’t or setting off alarms, do we, Dr. Brunet? Brunet? Brunet! BRUNET!!!”
The last thing I remember as I fall to the floor is the expression on Francis’ face as I throw up in his lap.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
visiting hours
MR. MERCER SHARES HOSPITAL ROOM 2A Northeast with me. He updates me hourly on meteorological conditions. “We’ll be snowed in till July if this continues,” he says. His television never strays from Channel 19, the weather station. Unlike me, Mr. Mercer entertains no visitors: no Mercedes to perform personal nursing care, no Henry to humour, no Edith for the talk of the town, no Norah to hold a hand. His diagnosis comes before mine: his pancreas is under-functioning and my thyroid is over-functioning. The doctor promises me, once they have my condition under control, I’ll be feeling like a new man: no more sleepless nights, exhausting days or unexplained weight loss.
“Will I qualify for a new job?” I ask him. The humour goes unappreciated.
Henry, Mercedes, Cyril and Edith are gathered around my bed. I tell them about the prediction for the new man. Henry predicts that my transformation will make Lazarus’ resurrection look like a mere yawn. The conversation turns to what happened after I passed out in the meeting. Henry asks who’s going to pay the dry-cleaning bill for Francis’ suit. Edith and Henry laugh. “Margaret gave me your briefcase, by the way,” he says. “You should have–”
Before he can finish his sentence, the door opens and Norah walks in. She sits on the side of my bed. I hold her hand. “Thanks for coming. Everyone, this is my friend Norah. You know Edith, I believe. You don’t know Cyril and Mercedes, my landlords.”
“Don’t be calling us landlords,” Mercedes says. “We’re more like family, wouldn’t you say, Cyril?”
“Family, yes. Carl and me are brothers and you’re the mother.”
Even Mr. Mercer can spare a smile in spite of the seriousness of the approaching low weather system. “Did you hear about what’s on its way up the eastern seaboard?” he says.